


Rebirth

by Databuffer



Category: Doom (2016), Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Brain Cancer, Cancer, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Disease, Gen, Heavy Sedatives, Overstimulation, Pre-Canon, Recovery, Samuel is old as hell so I cant really put canon characters in here, Stream of Consciousness, adjusting to a new body, disorientation, robot bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Databuffer/pseuds/Databuffer
Summary: Samuel Hayden died. His form destroyed by attempts to fight the cancer. His skull split open. His body left in gaunt skin and bone. And yet, it wasn’t the operations, the trauma, or the medicine - or even the disease that killed him (albeit it was certainly the hand that forced fate in this direction.)No. He hadn’t died fighting tooth and nail for survival. He had died with but a whisper. A mere lethal injection to close the book. A shot of potassium into the neck. It hurt, but the man could muster neither the energy to scream, or writhe. Just a faded whisper of “It burns…” before his heart stopped, and he breathed his last breath.Samuel Hayden dies, gets up, and starts picking up the pieces.





	1. Rebirth: The Decay

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is a bit short, but it felt weird to put it in with what happens next. Its entirely different in tone.

Samuel Hayden died. His form destroyed by attempts to fight the cancer. His skull split open. His body left in gaunt skin and bone. And yet, it wasn’t the operations, the trauma, or the medicine - or even the disease that killed him (albeit it was certainly the hand that forced fate in this direction.)

No. He hadn’t died fighting tooth and nail for survival. He had died with but a whisper. A mere lethal injection to close the book. A shot of potassium into the neck. It hurt, but the man could muster neither the energy to scream, or writhe. Just a faded whisper of “It burns…” before his heart stopped, and he breathed his last breath.

No one had been there to see him off. The room was empty, save for one nurse, who was wheeling away a now unneeded heart monitor. No one bothered, despite the myriad of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards, and flowers that littered his bedside. They were hell to get to Mars, if you’d excuse the heavy handed connotations. An indicator that his staff and family truly cared - or at least cared that he died comfortably. Or maybe they had just wanted last minute promotions, or inclusions in his Will. He didn’t care about them. Not in life, not in death. 

 

They were insulting.

 

It became clear that no one truly cared. If they did, they would be trying to find a way to save him. Truly, no one cared about Samuel Hayden’s life, more than Samuel Hayden. The one who spent his last months among the living, trying to do the impossible to escape death. The flowers were cruel. The cards were taunts. 

 

The flowers became mirrors of himself, after he was forced to stare at them night after sleepless night, bound to a hospital bed. A cruel fate. Once so beautiful, vibrant, and full of life. Cut down by something out of their league, of their control, and kept alive by artificial means. Nutrients and water to slow the decay, but slowing barely surviving it was… withering… He imagined a mechanical rose. All the beauty and life of its organic sister, but built to last. Endure. Adapt. Keep fighting… It was then that he had his epiphany. The cards on the other hand? Brain cancer wasn’t something one simply got up and walked away from… and yet, he would. Eventually. He wasn’t the type to stay dead. Far from it.

 

And so he conceived a new idea.

 

Samuel Hayden - in his genius - had decided a pruning was in order. To cut away at the rose, and supplement what petals remained with nylon. It wouldn’t be pretty, and it could die, but its beauty remained. In his case, replace pruning with surgery. Cutting petals away, with removing his Parietal lobe, and Occipital lobe. And the supplements would be silica of course… The beauty could stay the same though. He took pride enough in (what was left of) his mind to not alter that aspect of the analogy.

 

But - A mechanical rose?

 

Why… Sure, to some it might seem excessive, but why avoid death once, only to face it again and again? 

 

Yes. Death wouldn’t keep him down. He wasn’t the type to stay dead after all.


	2. Rebirth: The Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel Hayden wakes up. Things don't go as planned, or expected.

He was staring at the ground. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been, but it was where he found himself now, as he became more conscious. Slumped in his chair. Head lazily drifting downwards. 

 

Had he been day dreaming? It had been awhile since he had been afforded such a luxury. Stress and anxiety didn’t commonly allow it. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open? This week had certainly been exhausting.

 

He felt… light. His head was fuzzy, but not like how it usually was. If this feeling - like having just woken up after a long nap - was fuzzy, what he was used to would be more aptly put as being smothered by a pillow. Yes. His wit was sharper now, even if misguided by a tired mind. That and there wasn’t the dreadful feeling of there being a lead ball in his head. Or the burning at the back of his throat like he was moments away from vomiting...

 

Was he lost in thought?

The oddness of it was enough to try and question it, and figure out what had happened.

 

Slowly he shook his head. Mentally urging himself to pull himself together, but he couldn’t move. A part of his mind told him that it was fine. The others? Panicked. 

Drugged. Incapable of moving. 

 

He wanted to open his mouth and shout for help, but his face refused to move. Instead what came out, was a whimper.

 

“Where am I?” 

 

He mentally recoiled instantaneously. Too loud. His voice was thunderously loud in his own skull. Too sharp. Too flangey. Too metallic, but that was the easiest part to handle. The moment he spoke, the room was filled with voices, that he had somehow managed to ignore. Dull chattering and muttering about too many things at once. A death. Robots. Cancer. Medicine. None of it mattered - it was all too much. To much.

 

He was reminded of college. His first day on the campus was painful. He was home schooled his whole life, living in a secluded mansion, and only occasionally leaving for extra curricular activities, such as the library, or whatever sport his father fancied at the time. It was quiet in comparison and being flung into such chaos was overwhelming. Being the smartest man in the room, in a course titled Theoretical Physics as a freshman at Oxford - every word was quite an accomplishment, however it meant nothing if the intellect was locked in a body that refused to do anything but break down when the chatter became too much. Head pressed to the desk, ears covered. Moments away from tears, incapable of thinking. Only able to whisper the word ‘stop’ in inaudible broken sobs. 

  
  


“Stop…” he whispered, and this time it seemed to be noticed. Unlike how he had been back then. Many of the chatterers stopped. He couldn’t see them, from where his gaze was locked on the only imperfect tile in the room. He presumed they were looking at him, which was fine, truly. He had long since gotten used to that. 

 

A pair of feet entered his field of view. Two pristine black dress shoes, partiall covered by some sort of black slacks. Spottless, not a trace of mud, or Mars’ red sand to be found on the heel. Why so fancy?

 

“Samuel Hayden?” The man before him asked. Samuel struggled to put a name to a voice, or a face to a name. Familiar, but so very distantly…. Then, something leapt out of the coldness in his mind. His own voice speaking into his head, with purpose, and calmness. 

“Issa Rule?” Hayden responded. His voice so weak in comparison. 

 

“You remember your name, and you remember me! -” Those two feet moved forwards, til they were mere feet away from Samuel. He felt claustrophobic, and sick. His vision almost completely blocked by a gray suit jacket, and a tie with an entirely too cluttered design - but the hand that was placed on his shoulder was what did him in. It was searing hot. The pressure like he was being crushed. Once again, he tried to scream in agony, but nothing came out of his mouth. 

“Very good, now, do you know why you’re here? Can you move? Can you feel?” Issa’s voice was so happy in comparison. So oblivious to the pain Samuel was in. ‘No, No, Too much.’

 

His mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Why couldn’t he talk? Or - rather, why could he only talk involuntarily? He felt like he was trapped in a fucking prison! Strapped down to a torture table, with implements no one else could see! 

 

The chattering resumed. Louder. Painfully loud. 

“Doctor Samuel Hayden, I asked questions. Can you remember why you are here, can you move, and can you feel?” Louder this time too, as if it had been a hearing problem, and not an inability to speak. 

 

This was Hell! Was this some punishment for tampering where he shouldn’t?! 

 

Across the room a beeping began. Loud. Obnoxious - Painful. The chattering got louder. Concerned murmurs. 

 

Or maybe this was Hell! Maybe it only looked like a fiery waste to invaders, those who got in rightfully were subjugated to the worst punishments imaginable!

 

That voice in his head - him - spoke up again. “System Malfunction detected. Brain activity reaching critical levels. Safety override imminent.” Somehow it calmed him in an inexplicable way - it shouldn’t, but it did. A grounding of some sort. 

 

And then another hand on him. This time his chest. 

“Samuel, are you in there?”

 

Everything seemed to burst at that moment. The pain. The burning. All the voices.

Finally he managed to scream. It escaped him in a burst. A shriek that was louder than it had any right to be, and more distorted and flangey than any human’s should be. 

 

“I’M IN HELL.”

 

And just like that, he was back in darkness.


	3. Rebirth: The Sprout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel plays catch up.

The second time Samuel Hayden woke up, things were far smoother, and infinitely less alarming.  
Rather than simply becoming aware of his wakefulness, he was there from the start. His consciousness pulling itself up from a dreamless sleep. It was so familiar, and comfortable. With the previous events fresh in his mind, it was undeniably welcome.  
He eased into it. Calming himself. The fog on his mind - the drugs - were gone. He could think clearly, and purposefully now. And so, he ran over what he knew. Mentally compiling a bullet pointed list, as he always did when in moments of confusion, or uncertainty. To gather details, think them over, and evaluate before making a decision.

He was in a bed. His head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket laid over him. However his legs were too long for whatever odd mattress he was laying on. Bent at the knee, and dangling over the edge. His feet almost touching the floor.

It was quiet. No one was talking, and he was certain he wasn’t just blocking it out. He could hear distant sounds. The ones that came with living in a facility of any form. Distant conversations. Doors opening and closing intermittently. Boots on tile floors. All so comfortable, and familiar. Like nothing had changed. Like nothing horrifying or traumatizing had happened last time he woke up.

He was alone in the room. The way he was propped up, gave him a good view of the room despite not being able to move. Almost the entirety of it. ‘Get Well Soon’ cards and bouquets of flowers lettered a table on the far wall. How quaint. Though they were different than the rotating stock he was used to, so either some time has passed, that or they were in response to his show.  
He looked over the front pages of the cards, and the bundles of flowers from a distance. Having no difficulty reading the notes or captions. 

It wasn’t his room. Neither was it the hospital bed he was so familiar with --- 

Suddenly something else clicked away. One click after another.  
The cancer. How had he forgotten? It had been the worst two months of his life… The pain, the fogginess, the days spent incapable of forming words, the days spent purging his stomach into a pail. The days spent suffering at the hands of the liquid cement, and pain pumped into his veins from an innocent looking drip. Then… there was a void. A space where he failed to see the connecting points from then, to now. Such a sudden shift… An absence of awareness. A missing bridge that he knew should absolutely be found there.

The logical conclusion was that something happened to him. For better, definitely. He wasn’t in pain. 

But… why couldn’t he move? Why did the texture of the blanket atop him feel so fine, and detailed, like he could feel every fiber? Why was he alarmly aware of each minute shift in the temperature, and the breezes the wafted down the corridors of the vents, and to him? 

Wait… Why wasn’t he breathing?

 

Panic threatened to well up again, but he forced it down, with a well practiced hand.  
Focus.  
He needed to focus. Find the solution.

Samuel Hayden scanned the room once more, looking for activity log that would detail his condition, what medicine he was on or what date it was. He scanned as far as his motionless head allowed his eyes to wander anyway.

And then he saw it.

A bouquet of blue roses, separated from the rest, on the opposite table - blue, his favorite unattainability. The impossible. Though he was most interested in one of them - the tallest one - so very different from the rest. Towering over every single one of it’s sisters, its stalk a metal rod. Its leaves, gilded and silver, and its petals a luminous fiber optic. Glowing a brilliant cyan.

A mechanical rose. An affront to decay. A pompous, beautiful middle finger to both life, and death.

At the base of the crystal vase, under a ruby red ribbon tied to its neck, laid a note. In large calligraphy with the words: ‘Your Vision’

Suddenly it all made sense. He must have done it right? His mechanical rose? There was no other explanation. The confusion, the bodily changes, the gaps in his perception. He needed to talk to someone now. Someone who could fill him in, and help him navigate whatever this new body was.

But… talking. Calling for help, and then maybe trying to push the button he felt under his fingertips - hopefully a ‘help’ button. Yes, that was daunting. Even more so than figuring out where he was. 

He tried to start small. A gutteral noise, a quiet grunt. No noise came out, but he felt something click in his head. Something behind his face, suddenly switched on, and supplied power. ‘Vocal Synthesizer Mk. 1.01’, the voice in his head helpfully supplied, and he touched it. Reached for it with his mind, and latched on. Its interface filled his head. A manual of electric stimulations, and commands that made each and every sound it could. It was complicated. The contents of the guide at least three thousand - ‘four thousand, nine hundred and three’ - individual modules long, and yet he consumed it with ease. Processing it, and adding it into his own being. If he had any doubt that his brain wasn’t mechanical to some extent now, that threw it out the window.

For a moment, he marveled at the power of a partially mechanical mind, and wondered what a fully robotic brain could accomplish. The next, he flexed his new hardware. He effortlessly identified what 5 sound bytes he would play to simulate the drawl, and fluidity of his voice. As easy as breathing had been in his old form.

“Hello.” Flat in tone. Quiet, above a whisper. Exactly what he had wanted it to be.

His own voice. Seamless and.. human. Truly sounding like someone had plucked the voice box out of his human form, and plugged it into this one. Without commanding it, he let out an appreciative hum.

“Oh, well you certainly set up fast.” Humorous. Appreciative. A murmur meant only for his ‘ears’  
He let out a short chuckle. A wave of pride washing over him.

Moving would be a lot harder, he imagined. But for now, he could communicate. He could interact in a way. He wasn’t trapped anymore. So… time to call for help.  
Samuel Hayden commanded the synthesizer to be louder. About at level with a passionate shout. He needed to be heard out in the hallway, or by whatever monitoring device was in place for him. He found himself making the sound of a deep breath, as if he actually required breath anymore. A habit he imagined wouldn’t be easy to let go.

“Can someone please assist me? I am awake, and I have questions.” He called out. 

Down the hall he heard hurried footsteps. Then, abruptly, the door of his room being flung open with such force that it bounced against the wall. Leaping back up to hit the man who had scrambled in - though he scarcely seemed to care. Shrugging off the impact with a stumble, and instead fixing his glasses. The eyes beneath them wide in shock. Mouth partially agape.  
He tried to form words. Fumbling with false beginnings before finally finding his track, and clearing his throat. 

“So you’re awake now?” Issa Rule abandoned the door. Letting it fall closed with a magnetized click, as he dragged a chair over to sit at the side of the bed -- frustratingly in Samuel’s blindspot. 

“Clearly.” Samuel couldn’t help but bitterly retort. “I was awake last time as well, however I was overwhelmed. Speech was beyond me in that state.” He felt a pang of annoyance. Here he was, the one confused beyond belief, explaining things to his doctor. 

“Well - ah… Not so clearly, exactly... Your lights are off, and it’s not like you’re moving…” He drifted off, trying to shrug off the bitter edge to the doctor’s comment. “Speaking of which… Uh… what happened before? You kinda scared a lot of people with that outburst.” Samuel bristled with anger. He felt an urge to clench his fists, and draw his shoulders up to really drive that point home, and let Rule know that he had definitely worded that in an unfavorable way, but of course, that wasn’t something he could do. So instead, he responded with a bit of annoyance in his otherwise flat tone.

“Don’t word it as if it was my fault. You miscalibrated this thing. I woke up, overly sensitive to my surroundings, overwhelmed, and with gaps in my memory - I was unaware of what you had done to me. I had minimal control over my body. I couldn’t speak, and still haven’t figured out to move. It was alarming.” With every accusatory word, he could feel Rule shrinking into his chair. The more sadistic aspect of him wished he could watch. “Who’s idea was it anyway, to the test run in front of so many people? Foolish.” 

Issa took a moment before responding. Thinking it over, or perhaps recovering.  
“”Sorry doctor, I’ll try to get physical therapy, as well as some engineers down here to assist you as soon as we can. But uh… that was your idea… You said you uh - how’d you word it - wanted yourself to return to the living powerfully. Have the media there to show that something like death could keep you down for long, and you’ll be good as new…” 

If Samuel could have, he would have blanched at the explanation. He heard an huff of air leave him from somewhere… a vent of some kind? Wonderful, he still had ‘tells’ apparently. Involuntarily, he groaned. Wonderful! He was the idiot responsible! And the press saw him malfunctioning, and panicking! Lovely.

“Fantastic…” Was all he could grumble out. Falling back into silence to think things over. This was certainly ruining… He could imagine the headlines ‘Head of UAC, Doctor Samuel Hayden Gone Insane?’, ‘Solar System’s First Cyborg, Crazy?’ 

He pushed the thoughts away. Those were problems to be handled when he was in working order, and could make an official statement on his health. Of course they’d call the mechanical rose ugly, before it had a chance to bloom. He’d make them eat their words. Soon. Moving on.

“Another question… What do I look like?” 

“Just as you detailed in you schematics! We didn’t deviate in the slightest, aside from the design of your lower legs. The originals didn’t hold your weight well enough.” How utterly unhelpful…

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked. I don’t remember the schematics. I don’t remember anything regarding this body, aside from my inspiration - the mechanical rose - my memory has gaps, and I only concluded I succeeded because my symptoms were alleviated, and this body felt different.” He quickly scolded, and explained. 

“Right, right, my apologies - so you don’t remember the past four months then? Rough…. Anyway - Very robotic. You didn’t want to have a face, and… tall. Very tall. We had to remodel your office so you could fit through the doorways. Er… you’re silver, with blue lights… the rest is hard to explain.”

Samuel nodded in understanding at Rule’s explanation, only to freeze, as he’d realized what he’d done - he moved! Quickly he tried again. Repeating access to the new metaphorical levers that had shown themselves to him. He rolled his head over to the side. Enough to see Issa, who looked almost as surprised as him. 

“So… you can move..?” Issa asked, somewhere between excitement and fear, oddly. Hayden responded quickly.  
“I can now. I only just figured it out. Unfortunately it seems to just be my neck I have control over. I will definitely still be needing the physical therapist…” Samuel Hayden went quiet. 

Four months of memories, gone… That meant he managed to live - no, suffer - through about six months or so, before his previous body presumably died - six months was his predicted death date. Part of him was glad to forget, it was likely to have only gotten worse over time, but… Missing that much time, meant missing a lot of important events, and details…

“One other inquiry. My intact memories seem to stop at October 12. Has anything of importance happened since then?” Issa seemed to reel for a moment. It was a face he’d seen many times. When his family’s dog had died when he was in his youth. When his grandparents had past away. When his secretary had died from Argent exposure… Yes, it was one he was familiar with. “Get on with it. The good, the bad, the awful. If it’s important, I want to know it.” 

Rule nodded quickly and said. “Well… You were put on the list for possible recipients of the Global Energy Prize. When we send our first package, it's likely you’ll receive it… The Argent Tower is almost done. A statue in your honor was put in front of the UAC Headquarters on Earth, you chose to step down from head of the UAC, and elected the planetary manager on Earth to take over in your stead - until you could reclaim it, and… Your mother died.” Rule seemed to get more nervous as he continued on. What he likely assumed to hurt the most was unconcerning. His mother had been in a downward spiral for some time. Furious that she had been up and left. Her children leaving, and scarcely sharing their accomplishments with the family to ensure she lived happily. He didn’t care about her fate all that much. And the awards? Well, those meant even less. A nice thing to put in his office. A symbol of power, nothing more, nothing less. What truly stood out were the impending completion of the tower, and his self given demotion. 

When he was back to full strength, he had full intention of earning that title back - no, not just passing the torch back to its rightful holder, he wanted to prove. He was the only choice for UAC’s leader. No matter what form he took.

Samuel glanced downwards. Looking at the shape of his body through the outlines the blanket showed.  
Though, that may take awhile.

“One other question, and you’re free to leave. I assume my… organic body is dead. What was done with it?”  
“Sent back to Earth to be buried with your family. Symbolic really - I mean your tombstone doesn’t even have a death date. No funeral was held.” Samuel nodded once more.

“You’re making a memorial garden I presume? I want the inscription to read ‘Samuel Hayden gave his mind, and body for the advancement of mankind, but his soul lives on to keep guiding us forward.’” 

Rule chuckled a bit at that, and got up. Drawing a quizzical look from the bedridden doctor as he walked to the door.  
“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that you already had it built. Same inscription too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback - as always - is much appreciated! Thoughts, opinions, anything ^^


End file.
